IOU
by M.E. Johnson-McNeil
Summary: Sherlock and John have finally reached their wedding day. After much plotting and planning, Sherlock Holmes will finally become Sherlock Watson-Holmes. He had never believed in love until he'd met John Hamish Watson. Now they are looking at the next forty years together solving mysteries. *Rated M for / smut and violence. Third in my Johnlock series(Failed Date and Love Later)*
1. Chapter 1: IOU

***Hello lovelies. So…this is the second-to-last installment of my Johnlock piece that I've been working on. It started with The Failed Date and then Love Later. I wasn't intending for it to become a series, but it looks like it has. This has a moment of smut in it, but unfortunately I was going for feels more than smut. I am so sorry. I'm just going to say that. I am so so so sorry. Please don't hate me. See you all in the next piece!***

 **I.O.U.**

"Sherlock. Sherlock, easy." John chuckled, trying to push the man away. "We've only just arrived."

"Yes and your point would be what?" Sherlock questioned, gently nibbling John's stubbled jaw. "Isn't this what couples are supposed to do on their honeymoon?"

"Yes it is, but this isn't our honeymoon. This is the time in-between our wedding and our reception and we are in the car that your brother hired for us."

Sherlock sighed, flopping back in the seat, crossing his arms across his chest. "You always ruin my fun."

"Well, one of us has to be the sane one in this marriage."

Sherlock grinned at John. "You know, we could skip the reception, get an early start on our honeymoon."

"No," John replied, leaning back in the seat of the car. "After all the time you spent planning this? No. We're going to get through the reception."

"But that means that people will have to give moronic speeches that mean nothing and we'll have to listen to dozens of congratulations. Do you really want to sit through all of that mess?"

"Yes Sherlock."

"Why? Because it's expected of us? Of you more than me?"

"Because it's the right thing to do, Sherlock. All of these people have travelled long distances to see us. The least we can do is be present for them." John took his hand. "Plus, Mr. Watson, we practiced that first dance so much that I'd like for us to be able to show the world."

Sherlock smiled. "I do love to dance."

"I know you do. Mrs. Hudson does too with how many times she caught us practicing."

Sherlock chuckled, pulling John closer to him, breathing in the scent of soap and aftershave. He'd grown to love that smell in the mornings when John was curled up next to him in their bed. He'd never admit it of course, but there were a lot of things that he loved about his doctor. And of course he saw all of it, every tick, every nervous habit, every smile, every change in weight, clothing, grooming habits. He knew when John was trying to impress him and when John had had a horrible day at the office. He knew when his old wound was bothering him and when he needed to sleep or to eat. It was much like having a pet. Except this Redbeard would be with him for the rest of his life. And he didn't think that would bother him.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"What are you thinking?"

"Oh, I'm thinking about a couple of cases that I'll need to attend to when we return from Spain. Nothing too important, but they will need my attention."

"Are they dangerous?"

"Very."

"Secret?"

"Top secret."

John was grinning from ear to ear. "It sounds like you're trying to convince me to stay at home."

"God no. Quite the opposite. I mean, I married you to help me on cases."

"Is that all you married me for?"

"Yep." John looked up at him in shock before breaking into a wide grin, realizing that Sherlock was joking. "Well, I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy your company."

They arrived at their destination and Sherlock helped John from the car. John straightened his coat and Sherlock helped with his tie. People were pulling into the reception and John and Sherlock stood at the entrance, greeting everyone, thanking them for coming. John reached for Sherlock's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Sherlock relaxed slightly. Despite his feelings on marriage and love, he was willing to try for John. If this was the closest thing that he could get to love and happiness in his life, he would take it.

After the seemingly endless stream of guests, they entered the reception hall, seating themselves at the high table. The wedding party consisted of Mycroft, Molly, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, the men seated on Sherlock's left and the women on John's right. They finished the meal and as the plates for dessert were whisked away, the officiant announced that everyone should turn their attention to Mycroft. Sherlock sighed, grimacing inwardly. He'd hoped that Lestrade would be the best man, but John had insisted that he choose his brother.

"Little brother," Mycroft began and Sherlock winced. "Years and years ago, back when you were young, I never pictured you getting married. I pictured you as a pirate on the waters, using that somewhat brilliant brain of yours to rob mariners of their money. I thought that you would become my mortal enemy and that we would be sworn to kill one another until the end of our days." The room was silent and Sherlock fought back a sigh. "But now, here we are."

"When you told me that you were intending to marry John, I was unsurprised. You always had a fondness for your pets. So why should the doctor that you'd taken under your wing be any different?" Sherlock took John's hand, watching as the man glanced up at him with hurt and curiosity. "He became different the day you faked your death. I could see in his grief, which I've personally never understood, that he loved you. That he would do anything for you. I watched with interest as he wept for you, as he visited your grave every week. As he came by, on more than one occasion, drunk to your grave and howled at the sky with an agony that could make your skin crawl."

"I tell you now, little brother, that you are a lucky man to have someone so devoted to you. To have someone who would love you so deeply, truly, and unconditionally. I knew the day that I met him that he would change your life and you would change his. I ask now that we toast to the lovely couple, to a long and happy marriage filled with many adventures and mysteries for them to solve." Mycroft raised his glass. "A toast, to the doctor and the detective. May their marriage be blessed."

There were a couple more speeches and then Sherlock and John cut their wedding cake. It had been a simple cake, a deerstalker cap with a stethoscope wrapped around it. It was the one thing that Sherlock and John had completely agreed on in regards to the wedding. Sherlock took John's hand as everyone milled around, leading him to a side room so that they could practice their first dance.

"Sherlock, we've practiced this a hundred times," John protested weakly. "I've mastered every bloody step, every turn, every dip. Can we please not do this right now?"

"Well it's either that or I take you on that table over there," Sherlock stated calmly, watching as John's ears turned bright pink and his mouth dropped open with shock. "It's your choice John."

"Oh no. No, you don't get to make that choice." With surprising speed, John grabbed Sherlock and dragged him to the table, bending him over it, reaching around to fumble with the belt on Sherlock's waist.

"John...easy...we _are_ at a wed-" Sherlock groaned as John's hand wrapped around his hard cock. "Where did this come from?"

"Shut up," John muttered in his ear, stroking Sherlock with one hand as he undid his own belt buckle with the other. "You know that I've wanted you since I saw you this morning at the altar."

"Mmmmm. Is that so?"

John's hand tightened and he picked up his pace a little bit, listening as Sherlock moaned again. He tugged his underwear down before working Sherlock's down. Sherlock glanced back at him and John kissed him passionately before turning the taller man to face him.

"On your knees," John commanded, watching as Sherlock obliged. "Now, make it wet before I decide to pleasure you."

Sherlock leaned down, licking the tip of John's hard cock. The doctor groaned, eyes half-closed, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks. Sherlock gripped his hip lightly, sucking and teasing, licking along John's shaft. John's groans grew louder and Sherlock knew that he was getting close to orgasming. He got to his feet, taking his spot over the table once more.

"Go on John. Take me."

John stepped behind him, his right hand fisting in the detective's dark curls. "Are you sure?"

"Very, John. Please." Sherlock's whimper made John shudder.

He entered Sherlock, resting his forehead on Sherlock's shoulder before beginning to set the pace. John reached around to stroke Sherlock as he thrust deep inside him. The room filled with their guttural moans and the not unpleasant smell of their sweat intermingling. John was panting for air and Sherlock looked back at him with barely contained need.

"Please John...please…"

It was that pleading tone that drove John over the edge. "Sherlock!"

"John."

John's back arched and his grip tightened. His hand became covered in Sherlock's sticky cum, but he didn't mind. They stayed coupled together for a few moments before John pulled out, straightening himself up, using a handkerchief to wipe himself and his hand off. Sherlock stood up, pulling his pants up and buttoning them. They looked at each other, breathless smiles on their faces.

Sherlock approached John, cupping his face in both hands before kissing him. John's arms wrapped around his waist as he kissed back. They stayed like that until someone cleared their throat from the doorway. They sprang apart like two teenagers who had been caught snogging after curfew. Mycroft laughed.

"Are you two done? It's ten minutes before your first dance."

"I know what time it is Mycroft," Sherlock snapped. "Give us a couple of minutes. We were having a moment."

"So I could see. Two minutes and then I'll be back to get you."

Sherlock looked to John, taking his hand, running his finger over the wedding ring. "Doctor Watson, what do you do to me?"

"I could ask the same thing of you Mr. Watson."

They both laughed and then Sherlock kissed him again, tenderly this time. As he pulled back he peered into those stormy grey-blue eyes, seeing the love and passion sparkling there. "John...I love you. If I died today I would die the happiest man in the world."

"Good thing we're going to live for another forty years then at least."

They straightened themselves up before they walked out, going to stand outside the doors to the reception hall. The music that Sherlock had written for their wedding began to play and the doors opened. The world slowed down in that moment as the doors swung open and Sherlock stepped forward with John on his arm. Sherlock didn't know what was happening. One minute he was stepping forward and the next he was on his back on the ground, John standing where he had been.

There was the sound of screams and John turned to look at him, face going pale. Sherlock took in the scene.

' _Rapidly paling face, lips turning blue. Is that...blood?'_

"John," Sherlock whispered in horror, getting to his feet to catch the sagging doctor. Molly was running up, Lestrade and Mycroft tackling the gunman. "John, no. Stay with me. John!"

He laid John down on the floor, taking his jacket off, applying pressure to the wound. John looked up at him with fearful eyes and Sherlock knew the look of death on his face. "Sher...lock?"

"Hush. Hush my dearest doctor. We're going to get you help. You stay with me." John's eyes fluttered closed and Sherlock slapped him across the face, forcing him to jerk back to reality. "John, stay with me! That's an order!"

"Sherlock...I'm dying." The words were simple and calmly spoken. "I know I am. I can see it on your face. You know it...I know it."

"No. You're not going to die. We have another forty years at least...remember?"

John coughed and blood bubbled up from between his pale lips. The entire room was dead silent and Molly was taking the pressure from Sherlock. Sherlock bent down, stroking John's cheek, trying to hide the tears that were beginning to fall. John reached up with his right hand, gripping Sherlock's left, running his thumb weakly over the wedding band.

"Sherlock...I love you. I am...so glad...you became my...husband."

"Hush John," Sherlock murmured, choking back a sob. "Hush. I'm still your husband. You're still here. You're going to be fine."

John laughed before coughing again. "You always were...bad at lying to me. Sherlock...tell me...tell me you love me. Please...I need to hear it."

Sherlock leaned down next to his husband's ear, the tears slipping freely down his face now. "John...my dearest doctor...I love you. I loved you the day I met you and I will love you every day until I die." Sherlock felt John's hand go limp in his and he began to weep. "John...please don't go. Please…" He pressed a kiss to the dead doctor's lips, not caring about the blood there. "Good-bye John."

He knelt beside his husband's body, sobbing and crying, even after the coroner took his body and the only people that were left were Molly, Lestrade, and Mycroft.

* * *

"Who is she?" Sherlock asked, staring down at the headstone next to his. "Did she give any hint as to who she was?"

"Said her name was Mary Morstan," Mycroft replied, not looking up from his phone. "She also said that Moriarty sends his regards and to give you this as your wedding present."

"I knew he wasn't dead," Sherlock said softly, eyes never wavering from the name on the headstone as he took the letter from Mycroft. "I knew and yet I didn't go after him. I had to see John. And because of this...John stepped in front of the bullet that was intended for me."

"Well...now you can dedicate your time to finding Moriarty."

"How Mycroft? How do you expect me to do that? My heart died the day that John Watson did. I…" His voice filled with tears and he swallowed hard, refusing to cry in front of his older brother. "I'm not taking on any more cases. Consider my days as a consulting detective over with."

"Oh? And what will you do then? Go back to drugs? Throw away your talents?" Mycroft looked up at his little brother, frowning at the sight of the tears threatening to overflow. "Come now Sherlock, you can't seriously have been that attached to him? He was a pet of yours."

"No...he was more than that. He was...my doctor." Sherlock looked down at the ground. "Please leave me for a moment Mycroft. I wish to say my good-byes."

Mycroft sighed, but obliged. He glanced over his shoulder as he walked away. "This isn't what he would have wanted Sherlock."

"No," Sherlock agreed softly as his brother walked away. "He wanted forty years with me solving mysteries and going on cases. He wanted old age and adopting children, raising them in a loving home. And I would have loved to have all of that with him."

Sherlock opened the note, reading over it. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. Reaching into his pocket, he produced the velvet box that had once contained his engagement ring. Now it held John's engagement and wedding ring. Sherlock sat down, leaning his back against his own set down the box on John's grave. From his other pocket he produced John's gun. He pressed the barrel of it to his temple.

"So we didn't get our forty years John...what about an eternity?"

* * *

Mycroft froze when he heard the gunshot. His stomach sunk down to his toes and he was turning, running back to where he'd left his brother. A cry of anguish ripped from his throat as he saw Sherlock slumped against the grave, the gun in his left hand, his right reaching out to touch John's headstone. He was frozen, rooted to the spot at the sight of his brother's body, the blood splattered against the stone and grass.

"Sherlock...Sherlock...what have you done?"

He called the authorities before approaching what would soon be Sherlock's real grave. He picked up the paper from the ground, reading it slowly.

' _Remember our first meeting Sherlock? How your boyfriend threw himself on me to protect you? I knew he would do it again. All it took was one tiny red dot and he would throw himself in front of the bullet. Remember what I told you? Remember what I said in that pool. I would burn the heart Out of yoU. Consider my debt to you paid in full. Happy marriage and all that, even though it will be short-lived. Ta-ta! -Jim'_

Mycroft stood there with the note until police arrived to take away his brother's body.

"I hope you're happy Sherlock," Mycroft whispered, staring up at the stormy sky. "I hope you're happy wherever you both are as Doctor and Mr. Watson...I'm sorry brother mine. So sorry."


	2. Epilogue: A Piece of Heaven

**Epilogue: A Piece of Heaven**

"Daddy! Daddy!" Sherlock opened one eye to find a small child poking his cheek. "Wake up! Papa said that he's making pancakes for breakfast this morning! Come on!"

Sherlock pushed up out of the bed, shaking his head. "Go on Miles. I'll be down in a minute. Is Carl awake?"

"Yeah, he is. I think he was helping Papa."

"Alright. I will be down in a few minutes." The boy began to bound out of the room when Sherlock said, "Miles, have you been practicing like I asked you to?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Good. We'll play Deductions after breakfast then."

Sherlock got up, going to the bathroom, washing his face. He smiled at himself in the mirror. Everything he could ever want, right at his fingertips. Sherlock glanced down at the ring on his left hand and felt his heart flutter. Still to this day it gave him goosebumps. Ten years later and John Watson was still the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

The day that he'd arrived at their flat, he and John had had the biggest domestic that 221B had ever seen. John had taken swings at him, had struck him over and over. Sherlock had done his best to stop him, but knew that it had to all be let out.

 _"YOU STUPID, SELFISH ASSHOLE!"_ Sherlock grinned at the sound of John's voice shouting at him in his head. _"YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO FOLLOW ME YOU IDIOT!"_

There was a knock on the door and Sherlock opened it to find the doctor standing there. "Didn't you hear me?"

"No, I'm afraid I was lost in thought. What did you say?"

"That perhaps we should take the children and Redbeard down to the park. Soo Lin wanted to meet us for tea later as well." John frowned. "What's the matter? You look a bit pale."

"Nothing...it's fine. I think that...well, it's close to the day again."

"Ah," was all John said. "Right. I haven't quite figured out how to control it yet."

"It's fine. No need to worry about it. So, you've made pancakes? How domestic of you."

John rolled his eyes. "The children were hungry."

"Did you forget that they don't need to eat?"

John sighed. "Did _you_ forget that we're trying to make life as normal as possible for them?"

Now it was Sherlock's turn to sigh. "Carl at least knows that he's dead."

"Yes and when we found the poor boy he was in such a state of shock that he couldn't communicate. Its taken us how long to get him to talk?"

"Fine. Let them eat their pancakes. Has the paper come yet?"

"Yes."

"And? Any word on Moriarty?"

"Your brother finally caught him."

"And?"

"And Moriarty was killed in the stand-off. Finally. Ten years later and he finally manages to nail the bastard." John's face and voice were filled with rage. Sherlock touched his cheek tenderly. "This wasn't how it was supposed to happen."

"No," Sherlock agreed. "You're right about that."

"We were supposed to have a lifetime together."

"And we do. It's just...not where we wanted it to be."

John ran a hand through his hair. "At least we have the children. Does Miles know what happened?"

"No."

"Do you?"

 _'Broken glass in the boy's hair. Blood trickling down the back of his neck. Spine snapped in four-no-five places. Money clutched in one hand, a book on psychology in the other. School boy, bullied by his peers for being different, shoved out of a window when he tried to defend himself.'_

"Sherlock?"

"No, I've no clue. He'll remember eventually. Hopefully."

"Come on Sherlock. Let's go and get some breakfast."

As John turned to walk away, Sherlock grabbed him, pulling him close and kissing him. John relaxed against him, wrapping his arms around his waist. They stayed like that for a minute before Sherlock pulled away. "John?"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"Are you still angry at me?"

"For what? What have you done now?"

"Nothing. I was...thinking about our fight."

"Sherlock, that was ages ago."

"Yes, I know. But...are you still angry with me?"

John sighed, closing the door to the bathroom so that the children wouldn't hear. "I'm not angry, no. I'm sad that you would choose to follow me instead of living and helping the lives of those around you. But I'm not angry. I still think you're an idiot for it. But I'm not angry."

"John...how could I have stayed without my doctor?"

John frowned. "I don't know. But you should have. It must be very boring up here for you."

"Quite the contrary. I didn't believe that heaven existed, so this has been something for me to study. Coming here made me realize that I like being proven wrong."

"That's not something that I ever expected to hear come from your mouth."

"I'm certain of that. And you will probably never hear it again. Now, you said that there were pancakes?"

"In the kitchen. I've already made a plate for you to go with your tea."

Sherlock nodded, giving John a gentle kiss. "Thank you."

"For what?" John asked, confused.

"For not being angry with me still."

"Oh...well...you're welcome." Sherlock walked out of the bathroom and John looked up into the mirror for a brief moment.

He could see that day as if it were yesterday. Their wedding, how relaxed Sherlock had looked before their first dance. He could see the red dot appearing on Sherlock's chest. He was shoving him out of the way of the bullet. Blinding pain. A cold washes over him, overwhelming his senses. The only thing he can feel is Sherlock's lips against his as he died, the only thing he can hear are the words 'I love you' ringing in his ears. John looked down to see the blood on his shirt. He had to tell himself that it wasn't there, that that had been ten years ago.

John looked down again, the blood gone on the front of his tan jumper. He straightened himself up in the mirror, smiling. It wasn't what he'd wanted for him or his husband, but it was his new life. Two adopted boys, one five, the other eleven, and his husband, who, for better or worse, was with him for the rest of eternity.

John found that he didn't mind. After all, this was his and Sherlock's piece of heaven and for once, they would actually get to enjoy it.

"John? Are you coming to breakfast?"

"Yes Sherlock. I'm coming." John smiled before mumbling to the ceiling, "It's not how I wanted it...but I'm glad I have it. Thank you for my heaven."


End file.
